


the hope of it all

by favowiteperson



Category: Glee
Genre: Blam, Dalton Academy, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Pizza Delivery Boy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:36:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/favowiteperson/pseuds/favowiteperson
Summary: “Order for Blaine Anderson?” says Sam, and Blaine wonders how even a voice can be attractive.“Uh, yeah—” Blaine’s cheeks suddenly feel very warm, “Hey.”ΔBlaine meets a cute pizza delivery driver one night and spends the following weeks placing an embarrassing amount of orders in an attempt to see him again. He's nothing if not determined.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sam Evans
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60





	the hope of it all

**Author's Note:**

> do you remember the time it was mentioned that sam worked as a pizza delivery boy and once delivered to dalton academy? yeah me too

Dalton Academy is not the most exciting place in the world. Blaine is of course extremely grateful that his parents are able to pay the (admittedly steep) tuition that the school charges, and he’s happy that he is getting an education at one of the best schools in the area, it’s just — it can get very, _ very _ boring. Which is why, when Blaine and a few other Warblers made the discovery that fast food websites have finally added Dalton Academy as a valid delivery address, it was one of the most exciting things to happen to them since Pavarotti sung a note they hadn’t heard him sing before. And so, on the very same Friday night that they made the discovery, Blaine and six of the Warblers piled into his dorm room. As the unofficial leader of his friend group, the responsibility of ordering and retrieving the food fell on Blaine. He doesn’t even really like pizza is the thing, but the others were insistent, and even Blaine can appreciate the novelty of a pizza night. 

While Dalton Academy is strict in many aspects, Blaine is fairly sure that students ordering a pizza is not one of them. He’s sure he won’t get expelled for getting caught collecting takeaway food from the Dalton front doors — probably won’t even get a detention — but he’s still slightly cautious as he sneaks down the corridor. The tracker on Blaine’s phone says the pizzas are almost at the delivery location, and he quickens his pace. If some other students happen to be at the main doors when the pizza arrives and steals their stack of deluxe pizzas, Blaine will never forgive them. The alert on his phone goes off just as he reaches the door, and he quickly silences it. It’s late, almost time for lights out, and Blaine is already dressed for bed. His hair is completely free from gel, messy curls bouncing across his forehead, and he’s wearing his old soft plaid flannel pyjamas, and his last hope before opening the door is that the delivery person won’t judge his fashion choices too harshly. 

The delivery boy, however, doesn’t seem like the kind of person who judges harshly. No, Blaine thinks, he looks more like an angel sent from heaven above. 

Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but the boy is cute. Tall, blonde hair, and some of the biggest lips Blaine has ever seen, Jesus Christ. 

_ ‘Sam’ _ , his name tag reads. 

He’s so cute that Blaine freezes up, one hand automatically rising to try and flatten down his hair, to no avail.

“Order for Blaine Anderson?” says Sam, and Blaine wonders how even a voice can be attractive.

“Uh, yeah—” Blaine’s cheeks suddenly feel very warm, “Hey.”

The boy starts handing over the pizza boxes, and Blaine accepts them with clammy hands. His fingers brush against the other boys for a fraction of a second, and an embarrassing fluttering feeling rises in Blaine’s stomach.

“Hey. Slumber party?” Sam asks, eyes flickering over Blaine’s outfit, “Cute pyjamas.”

Blaine blinks, unable to tell if the boy is being sarcastic or genuinely nice, but he’s embarrassed either way. He’s still working up the courage to reply when the other boy speaks up again.

“I didn’t even know we delivered to boarding schools,” Sam says as he finishes carefully stacking the pizza’s in Blaine’s arms. 

“Neither did we until today,” Blaine replies.

“Huh,” Sam says, “Must be a new development.”

“I think so,” Blaine shrugs, “It’s, like, the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in months.”

“Really?” Sam says, “I always thought boarding school would be fun. Like, Hogwarts or something.”

“I wish that was true,” Blaine says, “But instead we get excited over ordering pizza.”

“Well, glad to be of service,” Sam stands back, smiling at Blaine in the porch light, “I hope you’ll order from us again, Blaine Anderson.”

And then he’s gone, cute little delivery boy uniform fading into the darkness as he makes his way back toward the Dalton gates.

_ Yes _ , Blaine thinks dazedly,  _ I will be ordering from you again _ . 

Δ

It takes Blaine three days to cave. 

He tried, he really did. It was just, every time he closed his eyes at night, all he could see were those damn lips. So on Tuesday evening, as the friend group once again pile into Blaine’s room for a few hours of gossiping and impromptu singing before bed, Blaine manages to convince them that another pizza order is a great idea. Since it’s pizza, and these are boarding school boys who were just subjected to a virtually inedible dinner at the cafeteria, they are not particularly hard to convince. He just hopes nobody brings up the fact that Blaine doesn’t really like pizza. 

This time, Blaine is prepared. He doesn’t change into his pyjamas, opting to stay in his Dalton uniform to save himself the mortification of Sam seeing him like that again. He touches up his hair gel slightly, shaping his curls into a more manageable style. He even, with just a touch of embarrassment, sprays a bit of cologne on his neck and applies a bit of chapstick. So sue him, he wants to look cute. For himself. Definitely not for any other reason. 

He meets the others in his room to make the order, thanking every God out there that none of his friends question why he’s still in his uniform at such a late hour. They order more or less the same thing as last time, and Blaine’s chest tightens in anticipation as he sneaks down the corridor towards the front doors. He hangs around the entrance for a few torturous minutes as he watches the little delivery tracker on his phone get closer and closer, nervously smoothing down his tie and readjusting his hair. He almost jumps a foot in the air when his phone dings, alerting him of the arrival of the delivery driver. Blaine feels nauseous. 

Taking a steadying breath, he pulls open the heavy Dalton front doors, and locks eyes with — not Sam. Very much not Sam. Blaine almost groans out loud in frustration. How could he not see this coming? Obviously Sam isn’t the only delivery driver that works for this company, and the odds of Blaine getting him to deliver his pizza again were not very high at all. How could he expect to get lucky enough to get a cute blond delivery driver twice in a row? Blaine sighs quietly, thanking the very-much-not-Sam employee and taking the pizza boxes from them. 

Blaine resignedly washes the gel out of his hair as the others devour the pizzas, and tries to convince himself that he’s not going to try again. That would be stupid, and immature, and a waste of money. He’s not going to order more pizzas that he doesn’t even like just for the small chance that he will get to see a cute boy again. It’s just not going to happen.

Δ

It happens.

In Blaine’s defence, it’s one of his Warbler friends, Nick, who suggests it this time. It’s been an entire week since their last order, and the dinner in the cafeteria was particularly bad tonight, and so pizza sounds like a great idea. Well, pizza sounds like a great idea to the others, and seeing Sam again sounds like a great idea to Blaine, so it’s a win-win really. Which is why Blaine agrees enthusiastically with the idea, immediately volunteering himself to be the one to collect the pizza again, despite it being expected from him at this point. Luckily, he hasn’t changed into his pyjamas yet, and his hair gel is still intact. He tries to convince himself that it’s going to be a different delivery driver again, that it’s not going to be Sam, but he can’t quite completely extinguish the flame of hope that starts flickering in his chest.

As he makes his way back down the familiar corridor to the front door, tracking page open on his phone, he tells himself that if it’s not Sam this time, he’ll stop trying altogether. No more pizza, no more getting his hopes up. He’s not sure why he’s so hung up on this guy anyway, they’ve only had one conversation. Sure, he was the cutest guy Blaine had ever seen, but that’s no excuse to be acting the way he is. No, this is the last time. If it’s not Sam, it’s a sign that he needs to pack his bags and leave crazytown. 

The alert on his phone beeps, and Blaine instinctively holds his breath as he pulls open the doors. 

It’s not Sam. 

Blaine does sigh out loud this time, and only feels a little bad about the offended look he gets from the delivery driver. He takes the pizzas and gives his thanks, all the while regretting his previous promises to himself to give up if the driver wasn’t Sam. Now he really has no chance. All he has is a handful of pizzas that he doesn’t like, and uncomfortable gel in his hair at ten at night. 

That night as he gets ready for bed, he resigns himself to the fact that both his heart and his bank account can not handle another disappointing pizza order. He says a silent goodbye to the mysterious cute pizza boy named Sam, and washes the last of the gel from his hair. 

Δ

Everything changes when they make the discovery. 

It’s not that Blaine has been moping exactly, but he’s been a little off the past week, and his fellow Warblers have noticed. He’s not pining over Sam, he’s  _ not. _ It’s just, it’s been a while since he’s met someone that he’s been immediately attracted to, and he’s  _ lonely _ , okay? And so yeah, maybe he’s been a little subdued recently after his resignation to the fact that he’s not going to see Sam again. He didn’t think it was that noticeable, but apparently it very much was, as his friends have organised a ‘ _ drink a bunch of alcohol to cheer Blaine up _ ’ night. Which is really saying a lot, since alcohol is a very hard thing to come by at Dalton. Between finding someone of age that will buy for them and weekly room checks, alcohol is a luxury. However, it seems like Blaine’s sudden dip in mood has justified a night of digging the cheap bottles of beer out from under their beds. 

Blaine and the others — his small friend group and some other Warblers who wanted in on the alcohol — are sprawled out around his room, pleasantly buzzed, when someone suggests ordering pizza. Blaine can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed at the way his heart rate immediately picks up. They go through the motions of getting everyone's orders down, albeit slightly slower than usual since everyone is on the clumsy side of tipsy. Blaine is just getting ready to place the order when he notices it. A small text box reading: ‘ _ Special delivery instructions _ ’, followed by an empty space. He taps on it, and the blinking cursor taunts him. He can’t, can he? It would be weird to request a specific delivery driver, and probably not even something that they allow. But the alcohol pulses through Blaine’s veins, and he suddenly doesn’t care anymore. He ends up typing ‘ _ please send the hot blond delivery driver _ ’, because asking for Sam by name would be just a tad bit creepy. Blaine has  _ some  _ limits after all. 

He takes a swig of his beer as he hits submit, and tries to ignore the flood of regret that immediately washes over him. 

“Are you okay, Blaine?” Nick asks, picking up on the way that Blaine has frozen up in his seat. The others turn to look at Blaine in confusion. 

“Yeah, of course,” Blaine forces a small smile, “I’m fine.”

Nick shrugs, and he and the others go back to drinking. Blaine huffs out a small sigh of relief. He smooths down his uniform and pushes himself to his feet, heading to the en suite bathroom to give himself a final once over before the pizza arrives. His hair gel has remained intact, although the alcohol has given him a pink flush across his cheeks. Blaine figures that he wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with Sam without blushing, so it’s not like it makes much of a difference anyway. 

A few minutes later, the alert on his phone goes off, indicating that the delivery driver — that  _ Sam _ — is on his way, and Blaine feels his stomach lurch. Maybe he’s had a few too many beers. He steels himself and leaves the bathroom. He passes straight through his room, not even sparing a glance at the impromptu acapella cover of a Katy Perry song that has broken out, instead making a beeline for the front doors before he can overthink it and chicken out. He hangs around the front doors for a few moments, fighting the urge to anxiously fix his hair. When the arrival alert goes off on his phone, it sounds even louder than usual. Blaine sucks in a shaky breath, hand closing around the front door handle and pulling it open quickly — like ripping off a bandaid. 

And there is Sam.

He’s just climbing the last few stairs to the Dalton Academy front doorstep when Blaine opens the door. He’s just as beautiful as Blaine remembers, and Blaine feels his breath catch in his throat. 

Sam climbs the last few steps, locking eyes with Blaine as he reaches the door and smiling brightly. 

“Order for Blaine Anderson.”

“Uh yeah, thats —” Blaine winces as the awkward, stilted way his words come out, “That’s me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam is grinning now, “I was wondering when you’d order again.”

“I have been ordering!” Blaine blurts, immediately cursing himself for having no filter. Stupid tipsy Blaine. He starts to take the pizzas from Sam’s arms just to have something to do with his hands.

“You have?” Sam asks, handing over the boxes.

“Yeah, well,” Blaine’s eyes dart around nervously, “A few times. I guess you weren’t working those days.” 

“Guess not,” Sam hums thoughtfully, “Is that why you requested me this time?”

Blaine tilts his head to the side in confusion, ignoring the way the action in combination with the alcohol he’s consumed tonight makes his head spin a little.

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks.

“You requested the ‘ _ hot blond delivery driver _ ’?” Sam says, and Blaine is surprised to see a flush spreading across the other boys cheeks. “I’m the only blond employee, so we all just kinda assumed it was me you were talking about. This would be pretty awkward if it wasn’t.” 

“Oh,” Blaine wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, “Yeah, that was about you. I’m so sorry, I completely forgot I did that. I think for some reason I thought you wouldn’t see it.”

Sam just laughs and hands over the last pizza box.

“It’s fine,” Sam smiles, scratching the back of his neck shyly, “It’s flattering, I mean, you’re a super attractive dude.”

Blaine is half endeared, half confused. Sam just complimented his appearance, but he also used the word ‘dude’. Was this flirting, or a straight guy trying to be nice? The mental gymnastics hurts Blaine’s already alcohol addled brain. 

“Thank you,” Blaine says, rocking nervously on his heels, “I’ll, uh, see you around.”

“See you around,” Sam grins, “So long as you request me again.”

“I really am sorry about that.”

“And I really mean it when I say you don’t need to be sorry,” Sam says, “Getting a compliment from a cute person is never a bad thing.”

Blaine blinks slowly. This is flirting right? Or is it just wishful thinking? He wishes he was sober enough to figure this out, but he’s always been oblivious about this kind of thing, so he’s not sure sobriety would help him anyway. 

“Although I will say, I do miss the pyjamas and you know—” Sam gestures towards his head, “the hair.” 

“Oh, god,” Blaine winces, “I’m sorry that you had to witness that.”

“What are you talking about, dude?” Sam asks, sounding genuinely confused, “You have like, the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.”

Blaine’s stomach flips over.

“I—” 

Blaine is cut off by a voice carrying down the hallway behind him.

“Blaine?” calls Jeff, one of his Warbler friends, peering around a door at the end of the hallway “What’s taking so long?” 

“Oh, uh,” Blaine glances quickly at Sam and then back down the hall, “Just a second!”

Jeff shrugs and retreats back behind the door, closing it behind him.

“Sorry for keeping you,” Sam says sheepishly when Blaine turns to face him again, shuffling back from the front door. 

“No! It’s fine!” Blaine says quickly, “I mean— it was my fault too. You’re just fun to talk to.”

“So are you,” Sam says softly, and Blaine is hit with a wave of yearning like nothing he’s felt before. 

“I-” Blaine nods towards the hallway, “I should go.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Sam says, taking a step backwards out of the doorway, “Have a great night!”

And with that, Sam turns and vanishes into the darkness of the Dalton Academy driveway, leaving Blaine on the doorstep with a stack of pizzas he doesn’t want, and a longing in his chest.

“You too,” Blaine says, a little too late. 

Δ

Blaine thinks about Sam a lot over the next week. 

He debates ordering pizza and requesting him again every night, but always manages to talk himself out of it. It would seem needy, or creepy, and he doesn’t really have the money. And of course, there’s the ever-present issue of him not actually liking pizza. It’s not until he finds himself absent-mindedly doodling “S+B” surrounded by little hearts in the margins of his school books that Blaine decides to order one more pizza — just one. One is all he needs, because he resolves to make a move the next time he sees Sam. 

Blaine’s not sure exactly what he’s going to do: ask for Sam’s number? Ask him on a date? Confess his undying love for him despite only talking to him twice? He figures he’ll decide on that in the moment. What he does know is that he’s going to do something about the Sam issue, and he’s going to do it tonight. It’s been an entire week since Blaine last saw Sam — definitely long enough to order another pizza and not seem crazy, Blaine reasons. 

Blaine opens the delivery app and immediately notices something is off. The address of Dalton Academy, which is usually saved on Blaine’s account, is not in the address form like it usually is. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Blaine goes to type the address in manually, only to confirm his suspicions. Dalton Academy has been removed as a valid delivery address. 

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, Blaine thinks and he sinks down to sit on the floor of his room. It’s not like he has a great track record of getting a hold of Sam with ease, maybe this is the final hint that this just isn’t going to work out. And sure, Blaine knows technically there are workarounds for this. He could order to a neighbouring address, or even show up to Sam’s work, but there’s a line between sweet and creepy, and if requesting Sam as a delivery driver was toeing the line, this would definitely be crossing it. So, before he can second guess himself, Blaine unlocks his phone and deletes the app. 

_ It’s just a stupid crush _ , Blaine tells himself,  _ nothing was going to happen anyway. _

_ This feeling will go away. _

He repeats it to himself like a mantra, and wonders how much he has to lie to himself until it becomes the truth. 

Δ

It’s a week later — while he’s studying in a corner of the choir room, because believe it or not, it’s actually quieter than the library — when he hears it. He never usually listens in on other people's conversations, half because he likes to focus on his studies and half because he doesn’t really care, but an unfamiliar voice catches his ear. 

“—do you know him?” the voice asks tentatively somewhere near the door, and Blaine’s ears prick up.

“Sorry, you’re what?” Nick asks.

“Uh, I’m looking for— y’know, that really cute boy,” the voice says, bordering on a whisper.

“Oh, Blaine?” Nick asks, and Blaine listens even more intently.

“Yes! You do know him!” the voice says, and the longer Blaine listens, the more he realises that the voice isn’t as unfamiliar as he first thought.

“Sam?” Blaine says out loud, pure shock taking over. 

The conversation at the door immediately ceases, and there’s a shuffle of footsteps before Sam is stepping into the choir room, decked out in his full uniform, pizza box in hand. 

“Thank god I found you,” Sam says, exhaling in what seems like either relief or exhaustion, “This is the third room I’ve tried. I’m surprised I haven’t been kicked out yet.” 

“What are you  _ doing _ here? I didn’t order a pizza?” Blaine says, frozen in his seat. 

“No, I know,” Sam says, sliding into the seat across from Blaine. “I’m on my lunch break so I gotta make this quick.” 

“What?” Blaine says, still dumbstruck.

“Okay, so, I might be wrong about this,” Sam says quickly, nervously, “But I’m pretty sure you’re into dudes, and I know we’ve only talked a few times but I’m really into you. Do you wanna go out some time?”

Blaine blinks once, twice. He clears his throat.

“You’re— me?” Blaine asks, “You’re into me? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Sam says, half laughing, “So is that… a yes?”

“Oh! Yeah, yes,” Blaine stumbles over the words, “Of course, um.”

“Great!” Sam grins, “Okay, I really gotta run. But here, open the pizza.”

And with that Sam slides the pizza box onto the table and spins on his heel, rushing out the door. Blaine snaps out of whatever Sam-related trance he was in long enough to lift the lid of the pizza box. Inside is a large pepperoni pizza, which is Blaine’s usual order, except this one is a little different. There are numbers scrawled on it in BBQ sauce. It takes Blaine a solid minute to figure out that it’s a phone number. Sam’s phone number. 

Blaine chuckles when he realises, but stops abruptly when he notices a smudge near the end of the number. Is that a three or a nine? And that last zero could be an eight…

Nope, he definitely can not decipher this phone number. 

“Are you  _ kidding _ me?” Blaine mutters to himself, ripping a blank piece of paper out of his workbook and scribbling his own number (legibly) on it. 

He’s not letting Sam slip through his fingers again. 

Blaine’s always been a relatively fast runner, but he’s never sprinted like this before. He speeds through the corridors, praying to every god that Sam hasn’t left yet. Apparently the universe is on his side this time, because when he skids to a halt at the front doors, Sam is still making his way down the driveway. 

“Sam!” Blaine calls, and the other boy stops immediately, jogging back to the doorway to meet Blaine. 

Blaine pauses for a moment as Sam stops on the doorstep facing him, a scene so familiar from all of their previous interactions. 

“Here,” Blaine says, thrusting the piece of paper at Sam, “I couldn’t read your number. Take mine.”

“Oh, right,” Sam says, sheepishly accepting the paper, “Yeah, I wasn’t too sure how that was going to work out.”

“Not very well is the answer,” Blaine laughs, “Okay, now go! You’ll be late.”

“Right!” Sam shakes his head as if he’s snapping himself out of some sort of daze, “I’ll call you!”

Before Sam can leave, however, another Warbler pops his head around the corner. 

“Blaine?” the Warbler calls, “Are you getting pizza again? You don’t even like pizza.”

“Uhh,” Blaine feels his face flushing pink, “I don’t— What?”

Sam looks back at Blaine, raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” Sam says, stifling his laughter, “This is an interesting development. I really have to go now, but maybe we can discuss this more over dinner. Breadstix?”

“Yeah, that’s—” Blaine can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face, “That sounds good.”

“Awesome, I’ll call you,” Sam says, flashing Blaine the piece of paper in his hand.

“See you then,” Blaine says, barely loud enough for Sam to hear it.

Evidently he does, however, because the other boy spins on his heel to face Blaine again. Sam is glowing in the midday sun, light reflecting off soft hair, eyes sparkling.

_ I could love you _ , Blaine thinks. 

“Oh, yeah,” Sam says, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle, “I’ll be sure not to order you the pizza.”

  
  


Δ

**Author's Note:**

> hi i hoped u liked this. shoutout to bridget who told me i if i didn't write this she'd lock me in a room like in a sim and force me to write. love u!
> 
> talk to me on my socials: jlmln420 on twitter, magiclesson on tumblr


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